The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1887-06-18
AN OLD MANS STORY.

score OF years ago I was warden OF
one OF the largest prisons in the
United States.
Every man has his hobby. Mine
was photography. 1 took the pic
lures OF our prisoners; but the wet
pate process was slow and it was
often hard to catch the truthful ex-
preston of convict's face. Some
times they are very unruly and will
not keep still.
After awhile tried dry plates, but
u was only when 1 had resigned my
position as warden and become a
prison artist-about three year since
that l was always successful in
taking a correct picture.
Thenew warden commenced hay.
3SnH the pictures~of all new arrivals
! tskNu In order to make the records
more complete and to furnish reli-
able method for the future identified
ton of professional criminals and
escaped convicts.
l had my studio built up in the
centre q the great prison yard. 1t
was fittei up with screens and cur
tains for rejecting the light down
upon a chir fastened to the floor,
directly beleath the great skylight.
took cohfort in that high, bare
room with III white walls. Indeed
I did.
1 had beceme attached to the
prison. Queer Well, from habit.
you know.
Then I had just begun to use the
Eastman paper negative and roller
holder process. You can catch a
mans expression in a hundredth
part of second with that.
The first batch OF convicts brought
me were a strange lot. With my
penchant for physiognomy it was a
treat. Forty of them too.
There was one old scamp of eighty.
but no one was such study to me as
a young fellow of twenty-five, in for
having too many wives.
His face was as fair as a girls, with
eyes of that peculiar blue which be-
longs to childhood. BY the way,
never saw grown person with such
eyes but what some latent rascality
developed itself sooner or later. His
hair was soft and fine and of an au-
burn tint. There was a naughty curl
on his lip and a certain defiance in
his air that contrasted strangely with
his innocent-looking eyes.
Before L had been the prison artist
year my eyesight began to fail and
1 gave it up and retired to little
house owned in -. No, l won't
tell you where. for my story deals
with persons living.
Joe Dart, that was the youngsters
name, got out before he had worked
in the kitchen six munths.
His picture Vas seai far and wide,
and the authofgsles teit but little
anxiety. ~ % escaped convict was
ever known ~ Futain hts liberty when
his negative was on file In the prison.
Al leplth a large reward was Offer
ed, but he did not make his appear
ance.
II was no mystery how he got out;
and the circumstances made it par
ticularly aggravating.
He behaved so well that he got on
the soft side of everyone was allow"
ed some liberties.
His folks sent him pile of cookies
and a big frosted cake. The next day
he was allowed to work in the outer
garden next to the warden's house.
He sawed the bolt off the high.
strong gate and walked out in the
broad daylight. He seemed to have
vanished from the face of the earth.
In his cell was found the cake
broken open, and there was the print
of the tiny fine-tooth saw that helped
him to freedom. 1t was baked in the
cake. Somebody was cunning, wasn't
they2
After that convicts did not get any
''goodies" from home unless they
were thoroughly examined for con-
traband articles.
l hoped they would get Joe, for
my heart ached for the poor little
wife, with a babe in her arms, that
came begging to see him before he
had been in close quarters month.
Then there was the other one, a
pretty young thing fresh from the
country, to 60 back to her parents q
ruined girl.
Yes, I hoped and prayed that he
might not be left at large to break
any more hearts.
My housekeeping took up my mind
and forgot all about Joe and the
rest of the convicts.
After 1 got fairly settled in my
nest, L sent for my niece, Kizzie
Smart, to come and be my house